#soberliving

Dancing Upon Disappointment

~ The Fragrance of my Mother ~ Leave a comment

Dancing

I’ve sat in the silence of my own home many times in the past 3 years of living in my little apartment. There have been silent moments of peace, silent moments of gratitude, silent moments of fear, silent moments of uncertainty and silent moments of doubt. Tonight I sat in the silence of sadness. The silence of disappointment. The silence of looking at a life I had wanted so badly and finally had to let go of.

I sat and I cried. I cried and I cried and I CRIED. As I gasped to regain my breath, amidst all the tears and the overwhelming pain swelling in my heart, I turned my eyes up. Tonight I came to the realization that just because you can’t always lift you heart, you can always lift your eyes. Life isn’t always “fair” and it certainly doesn’t always feel good. Sometimes it hits you so hard you feel like you can’t breathe.

In the midst of truly breaking down, I felt a sense of sincere hope. A hope that I haven’t felt in a long time.  A sense that even in the midst of my most genuine uncertainty, there was still a reason to sing. Even though it doesn’t always make sense in the present, the past has taught me that all things are made infinitely more clear in time. Although sometimes “hallelujah” is really hard in the moment, it’s still so necessary to worship, to be thankful.  

Heartache rarely comes with reason. It causes question. It causes a feeling of constantly walking on unstable ground. To me, that’s the beauty of real faith. The ability to walk blindly into the darkest of situations, and despite the anger and emotion of it all, trust that God is still God.

As I sat on my kitchen floor, tears streaming down my face and my heart feeling like it was shattering into pieces, the only words I could get out were, “You are still good. You are still sovereign. I choose you.” Although they were words filled with heartbreak, they were without anger. For me, that’s a step forward. It’s easy to blame God for things not going the way you had planned and for things looking undeniably different than you’d imagined.

When dreams seem to die and plans change, it’s so easy to become callused and closed off to the idea of an invisible God. Falling in love with a God that’s neither tangible nor visible is really hard. Tonight was the first night that I can honestly say, I leaned into the presence of an invisible God. I pulled on the strength of something I couldn’t see, but something I couldn’t deny.

Disappointment and pain are inevitable. Hurt certainly doesn’t discriminate and we all experience it in one way or another, at some point. If I’ve learned anything, it’s that God is never negligent. He may be out of sight, but He is never missing. We may distance ourselves in the face of human emotion, intention and discomfort, but He is never absent.

To me, the beauty of Jesus is truly reflected in the broken moments. It’s in the pain and the moments of truly surrendering our will, that our need for Him is magnified. Choosing Jesus doesn’t always feel good. It doesn’t always feel comfortable. Sometimes when the breath to praise is lost, the simple act of putting our arms out in surrender and choosing joy is enough. It’s all He’s asking for.

The beauty in believing blindly is knowing that the striving can finally cease. The worry and the uncertainty completely lose their power. I’ve learned that sometimes when we’re called to rejoice in sadness, we don’t always have the song, but He can still teach our feet to dance upon disappointment.

When It All Falls Apart.

~ The Fragrance of my Mother ~ 1 Comment

sunshine-after-rainThere have been several moments in my life, especially in my adult life, where my faith, and every aspect of it, has truly been challenged. Through every moment, God has been so faithful. The thing about that though, is just because God is faithful, doesn’t mean things are going to be painless. You’d think I’d have learned this by now, but it’s something I’m still being reminded of. The past 3 or 4 years have been filled with some of the greatest joys and greatest heartbreaks of my life. I’ve experienced love, loss, joy, sadness, trust, anger and about a million other lessons and emotions. Sometimes, growing up is hard, but God is good, ALWAYS. I may not always be faithful, but He is faithful, ALWAYS. Something I’m also still having to remind myself of constantly.

God has brought me through a lot the last few years. I’ve struggled, I’ve learned, I’ve grown. (Not always in that order, but He eventually gets me exactly where He wants me.)  But what I’m finding is that just because you make it through one difficult season, it doesn’t mean there aren’t more to come, and possibly harder ones than the seasons you’ve already walked through.

Life has recently brought me to a place of complete and total uncertainty. A place of once again, having no answers. Every aspect of my life seems like it’s a question mark right now. Even God. I question what He’s doing. I question why He’s doing what He’s doing. I question why He allowed me to walk through the things He has. Why He’s allowed me to struggle so much with the things I’ve been struggling with. I’ve questioned His goodness. I’ve questioned His sovereignty.

2 years ago, I was in a very similar place. I was lost. I was stubborn. I was trying so desperately to just cling to something, anything that would give me some sort of a tangible sense of security, if only for a moment. I wrestled with anger and doubt. I called God and who He says He is into constant question. It took awhile, but He eventually brought me to a place of surrender. As much as I fought it, as much as I tried to place the blame of my circumstances on literally anyone and anything other than myself, He got me, and as soon as He did, life started to get better. It didn’t always feel like it and it was never a quick process, but looking back, I can see His hand on me the entire time.

This time around, in this season, it’s a little different. I started this blog after my entire world had already come crashing down around me. I’m writing this today from the moment just before that. That moment when the ground moved so violently under my feet that everything that I was holding so tightly to, was forced out of my grip. That moment when everything is up in the air, and as gravity brings it all back down, you either catch it or it all falls to the ground.

It’s been hard for me to not have the mindset that I’m in the exact same place as I was 2 years ago. That I may have grown in that moment, but I’ve backslid right to where I was and it was all for nothing. Unfortunately, in some ways it’s true that I’m in a very, frighteningly similar place, but in other ways, it’s completely different. This time, as I’m watching everything be thrown from my arms and out of my control and instead of doing whatever I can to reach out and grab onto whatever is still within arms reach, I’m stepping back and willingly let it all fall.

I thought the scariest place I’ve ever been in, was a place where God asked me if I’d be willing to give up the things that mean most to me in this world, to obey Him. The thought of letting go of the things that made me feel safe was terrifying to me and sometimes still is. Thinking about letting go of things I’d come to depend on and look to for comfort was truly not something I was interested in doing. God gave me plenty of opportunities to loosen my grip and to let go, but every time I got close, I would get scared and I would hold on tighter. Eventually, He got me to a place where as much as I wanted to, I just couldn’t hold on to it all anymore and I had no choice but let go. What I failed to realize was that the scary place isn’t being willing to give everything up, it’s being in a place where you’re not. A place where you convince yourself that you have control over your life and your future. A place where you truly believe that you can hold everything together all by yourself.

After that, I never thought I’d be in that place again, until now. Flash forward 2 years. This time though, I can recognize when God is trying to get ahold of my heart. Instead of fighting Him every step of the way, I am learning to be willing to turn my eyes to Him, put my arms down and let God catch and place in front of me only the things that He desires for me to have. That’s the beauty of Jesus. That’s the beauty of the reckless love of a Savior who knows far better than I do. I have been SO uncertain, SO confused, SO heartbroken and SO angry, again. I turned my back on Jesus, again. I heard Him calling my name over and over, and I still kept running away, again. And yet despite all of that, the minute I turned around and needed help, He came straight to my rescue.

Being obedient is definitely not always easy, especially in the midst of such uncertainty. Having to admit that that uncertainty came from a combination of things that were both out of and within your control is tough. Having to acknowledge that we don’t know best for ourselves and that sometimes that means walking everyday, in what seems like total darkness. The unknown is scary. The possibility that maybe the life we had dreamed of and created for ourselves isn’t necessarily the right thing, is even scarier. I’m constantly reminding myself that even though it doesn’t feel like it, and even if it seems impossible, that is the best place to be. To be in complete surrender.

This blog started out of desperation and longing for clarity. I wanted answers and I wanted reasons for things that still remain unexplained. Although it doesn’t feel like it, this blog continues out of the growth of my heart through God’s faithfulness. It’s really beautiful to look back at where my heart was, to see that the things that I was struggling with, and the person I was at the time were never out of God’s grasp or mercy. I’m able to step back and let the pieces of my life fall apart this time, and despite all the uncertainty surrounding me, know that He is going to let everything fall where it’s supposed to. In all of this, God has never failed to bring everything together and pull everything into one flawed but perfect picture.

Although I’m learning to completely trust God to support and fulfill me, I can’t ignore the fact that there is a huge part of all of this missing; my mom. I can’t help but wish she was able to walk beside me and help me through all of this. This blog began as a way to finish a legacy that she started, but it’s through this, that God has allowed me to heal, to surrender, to be accountable, to be honest, to be open and to experience the fullness of His grace in a way that I never have before. I can’t think of a better reflection of my mom and who she was than through that. Not only do I get to keep creating my own legacy through all of this, but God made it possible to breathe life into hers even after she’s gone.

To anyone who is struggling on a similar road, one you never wanted to be on in the first place, or never thought you’d be back on, please know you’re not alone. It sucks, it’s heartbreaking, at times it feels hopeless and it’s SO hard, but you are not alone. In all the questions and in all of the broken moments, the only thing I truly know is that God is ALWAYS good. God is ALWAYS sovereign. God’s grace is ALWAYS sufficient for us and even when it hurts, He is ALWAYS worthy of our praise.

“Awake my soul to sing with Your breath in me, I will worship. You taught my feet to dance upon disappointment. And I will worship.”

Through Waters Uncharted.

~ The Fragrance of my Mother ~ 1 Comment

through waters uncharted“Through waters uncharted my soul will embark, I’ll follow your voice straight into the dark. And if from the course You intend I depart, speak to the sails of my wandering heart.”

For the past few years, my Dad has been talking about chartering a boat, and taking our family on a “week long sailing excursion.” It’s important to note that neither my dad, nor any other member of my family has even a hint of sailing or boating experience, so naturally, the thought of this is absolutely terrifying to me. The thought of putting everyone I care about and love most into a boat, one in which none of us have any experience in doing and just hoping we somehow make it “somewhere” safely, seems like a really terrible idea. It raises so many practical questions that I think anyone would inevitably ask themselves… “Where are we going?” “What do we do and how do we do it?” “Will we make it somewhere or will we just float out to sea and get lost forever?” Shortly after these thoughts, and many more like them, go racing through my head, I immediately start envisioning myself in a Tom Hanks in Castaway type situation. All this to say that as much as I would love to have the same confidence my dad does for something he knows virtually nothing about, and have the faith to believe everything is going to be okay, I don’t. In fact, I am quite the opposite. I would love to have that fearlessness, but I tend to operate more within the confines of crippling fear most days.

I know this seems like more of a humorous anecdote than an actually meaningful thought, but all humor aside, that fear stops me from far more than a family sailing trip. That fear dictates much of what I do. It’s the same fear that was the reason I haven’t written in probably over a year. Reading back over everything from the past few years is bittersweet. I read those words and I am immediately taken back to that time and on one hand, I can see how much growth took place in the midst of everything that was changing in my life. I see Jesus in those pages and through those words. On the other hand, I can’t help but feeling a wave of sadness. The path I was on, the path of growing up and maturing; it doesn’t seem so clear anymore. Over the past 2 years, there’s been a lot of ups and downs. Fear seems to be the overwhelming theme as of lately, and it’s left a wake of destruction and isolation in it’s path. As terrible as this may sound, I used to find a bit of humor in the scene of Castway where Tom Hanks is trying to make his escape from the island and as he falls asleep, Wilson drifts off… not because I lack compassion, but because he’s yelling at a literal volleyball with a face on it. I watched that movie again last night, only this time it wasn’t so funny. I found myself relating to that very moment and my heart truly ached; the isolation, the desperate cry to hold onto the one thing that gave him reason to keep going and watching it slowly slip away, powerless to stop it, and the moment of complete and utter defeat before he was rescued.

I’ve had quite a few people reach out lately, asking me how I’m doing. To most all of you, I’ve said something along the lines of “I’m so great. Life is good.” I felt led to write this, not because I need sympathy from anyone, but because putting this out in the light, takes away its power. Being honest allows accountability and the more I’m willing to be open, I know the more freedom God will allow me to experience. I have a habit of trying to hide my weaknesses and play it off like everything is great. Without fail, God exposes my heart for where it truly is every time. Honestly, it sucks in the moment and it’s really hard to face your biggest insecurities and shortcomings head on, but I believe that’s the only way to find healing.

To all of you who have asked, the answer I should have given you is, life is hard right now. I have found that being in your twenties is one of the most tumultuous times, and I’m only halfway through them. For me, the biggest cause of this has been alcohol. I know this is something that people of all ages deal with, but there’s something about being in your twenties, that you feel almost an entitlement to drink as much as you want, and not have to answer for any of it, because you’re in you twenties, and it’s “just what everyone does.”  You hear things like this a lot, or at least I did, which could be due, in part, to the people I was surrounding myself with. What I failed to realize, is that its not actually what everyone does, and it does affect the people around you, especially when it gets out of hand like it did for me. I will be completely honest, I’m not writing this from a place of having learned my lesson or gotten past it, I’m writing this from step -5. I am in the heart of the monster that, for me, is alcohol.

The allure of drinking started when I was 21. I was in an incredibly vulnerable place in my life, and alcohol made me something I thought I couldn’t be on my own. It allowed me to be this confident, outspoken, beautiful, charming woman, when what I really felt like, was this shy, inadequate, purposeless, scared little girl. It started off great, or so I thought. It allowed me to live without consequence. When things were good, they were great, and if I drank too much, which happened way more than I ever cared to admit, I could get by with the excuse, “Oh well, I was drunk.” Far too many times did I use that as a reason to not be held accountable to things I said or did, and it became a lifestyle.

I read a book in which the author compared struggling with alcohol to an abusive relationship. Now when I first read that, it sounded like a bit of a stretch. To me, it’s apples and oranges, 2 completely different situations. But the more I read, the more I understood. I’m paraphrasing here, but she pointed out how at first it charms you, it draws you in and makes you feel warm and accepted. It gives you confidence and seems to squash any and all insecurities that you have. But the more you give into it’s power and allure, slowly it starts to break you down. Some people see the red flags right away, and are able to correct it and walk away. But for others, myself included, the more you try and walk away, the more appealing it becomes, and soon there after, it seems like it controls everything you do. You become isolated and dishonest, and before you know it, you don’t even recognize who you are anymore, yet somehow, you still feel like you can’t walk away; you need it.

Growing up, when I thought about who I would be at this point in my life, I never in a million years would have guessed that I would be battling with alcohol and consequently watching the relationships around me crumble, watching people that I love or have loved in the past consistently be hurt, friendships be torn apart, jobs be lost, attempts at school fall through, all because I let alcohol hold more value than the people I care about and the plans God has for me. It wasn’t until just recently that I finally hit a breaking point with all of this, and everything fell apart. God finally exposed the one thing I’ve been trying so desperately to hide and he brought it forth with the brightest light possible.

Having to finally be honest with my family, my best friends, and hardest of all, the love of my life, was the hardest moment of my life so far. Having to come clean about all the times I’ve lied about drinking, tried to cover it up, tried to diminish just how badly I was struggling with this for years now, and watching the hearts of everyone I shared this with break for me, broke my heart in a way that I didn’t know was possible. I finally came face to face with the hurt that’s been caused by this and finally saw just how deeply this affected everyone around me, and it was almost too much for me to handle.

For some of you that have known me, I’m sure this is coming as no shock to you. Some of you have even called me out on it, and I want you to know that even though I chose to ignore your words at the time, they weren’t lost on me. To others of you, this may be completely surprising. To share something so personal and something so private is nauseating beyond belief. I wish I could just snap my fingers and make it all go away. I wish with everything I have that I could take back every terrible drunken word or moment that’s caused hurt not only to myself, but to the people I care most about. In all my regret and all my fear of losing just about everything, I am reminded that God is still good. That no matter how far I’ve veered from the path He laid out for me, I was never, and am never out of his sight. I have a nasty habit of making things much harder for myself than they have to be, but I can’t help but feel like God knew exactly what He was allowing me to walk into the whole time. He had to allow me to lose myself so I could rediscover myself in Him. I’m not there yet, and I desperately wish I could say I was. What I do know is, and I firmly believe, is that even in my greatest weakness, God is made greater. That in my most sinful and shameful moments, He is still magnified.

For those of you who took the time to read all of this, I want to thank you, from the bottom of my heart. I truly believe God is going to bring good from all of this, some days more than others. I feel like I’m starting from square one again, which is sort of beautiful, because that’s where this all began. It began with me walking straight into the darkness of the unknown and doing my best to rely on His voice to carry me through. I’ve seen Him do it before and I wholeheartedly believe He will do it again. I believe that God desires so much more for us than to live in the shadows, to hide in the darkness in fear of judgement or shame. Thank you to everyone, past and present, who has come beside me and helped me start to move forward. I have no words to express how grateful I am for every one of you.

“Even when my strength is lost, I’ll praise you. Even when I have no song, I’ll praise you.
Even when it’s hard to find the words, louder then I’ll sing your praise. I will only sing your praise.”